


i follow you down until the sound of my voice will haunt you

by verynearlysouffled



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, F/M, Friendship, Tragic Romance, inspired by the world of buffy the vampire slayer but i pick and choose what i include
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:42:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27616441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verynearlysouffled/pseuds/verynearlysouffled
Summary: “Those witches sure did a number on you,” he said, voice so slow it was almost a whisper, his breath so warm against her neck. “It took me a long, long time to find out what happened to you. I was almost hurt, until I learned. A soul. How disgusting. I can smell it on you.” The Doctor could hear footsteps coming from the other corridor, and something frantic rose within her. “But, Doctor...” This was punctuated with his tongue sliding up the skin of her neck, and she gasped despite herself. “I will fix you. Or destroy you, if it’s the last thing I do.”-The Doctor and the Master ruled together as vampires for a long one hundred and fifty years. A pesky soul teared them apart though, and since then the Doctor has been trying to atone for her mistakes. Meanwhile, the Master has spent sixty years trying to find the Doctor whilst continuing to stake his claim as the most dangerous vampire in the world. He’s killed three vampire slayers so far, and now he’s coming after a fourth. But the Doctor isn’t willing to see her best friend Yaz become his next victim.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 36





	1. but listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness

**Author's Note:**

> if any of this fic (especially later chapters) looks familiar, it's because i originally started writing this for a spyvember prompt. i just got so inspired i couldn't leave it alone. and now it's getting quite long in my google doc, and has really moved from horny vampires into something with actual plot. so i'm proud of me for that development, anyway.
> 
> title of the fic is from fleetwood mac's 'silver springs' and title of the chapter is from fleetwood mac's 'dreams'. they really were the music inspo for writing this fic. there is a strong possibility i'll just use them for all my titling needs for this fic. make it a thing.

**(2020)**

The Doctor swung her leg out, knocking the vampire over. He retaliated, kicking her in the stomach before leaping back up off the ground. She ducked at another hit, landing one on his chest, and as he had the wind knocked out of them, quickly stabbed the stake into the vampire's heart.

There was just dust a moment later.

“Hey, Doctor!”

Yaz was wrestling another two vampires, skilfully twirling and flipping between them, using their attacks and force to bring them down. She’d be fine in the end, the Doctor was sure, but still she came to the help of her friend.

While one was distracted putting Yaz into a chokehold (Yaz meanwhile was kicking the other vampire away from her), the Doctor came up behind and dusted the first vampire.

This allowed Yaz the momentum to push the other vampire away, landing punches and forcing it into the side of a crypt before staking it. 

With the two standing there alone, Yaz smiled cheekily at the Doctor and held up her hand. The Doctor rolled her eyes before high-fiving it.

Yaz laughed through heavy breaths, and as they continued their walk through the cemetery, commented, “Lots of newbie vampires out tonight.”

“Yeah, I was thinking the same,” the Doctor said, peering around them for anything else that might pop up.

“D’you reckon it means something?”

The Doctor shrugged. “Dunno. I’ll keep my ear to the ground, see if I hear any rumours of some new big vampire in town. Maybe it’s just the weather.”

“I do hear vampires like a summer breeze,” Yaz quipped, smiling at the Doctor.

“Oh, we thrive on it,” she said back with a nod. “It’s beach weather. Vampires love the beach.”

Yaz still smiled, but something somber overtook her features. Before the Doctor could ask, Yaz was already talking. “Do you miss the sun?”

The Doctor shrugged. “I don’t really remember the sun.”

Yaz paused in her tracks, and the Doctor slowed down, turning to look at her. Yaz was staring with wide-eyes, lips curled in a frown. “You don’t remember the sun?”

“It’s been awhile,” the Doctor said.

“How long? How old are you anyway?” Yaz continued.

“Old enough to be your grandparent probably forty times over,” she said, with a grimacing smile.

“Seriously?”

“Would I joke about something like that?” 

“You said you married Queen Elizabeth the First once, I don’t believe half what you say.” And finally Yaz smiled, and the tension began to ease in her chest.

The Doctor laughed a little. “Well I was! Not legally binding, of course, but we had a ceremony.”

“If you say so,” Yaz said with a laugh, starting to walk again. The Doctor gave a half-smile, following. “You know,” Yaz continued. “Sometimes I think about how you’re my best friend. Is that sad? That I’m a vampire slayer whose best friend is a vampire?”

“Really? _I’m_ your best friend? Couldn’t do any better?”

“Oi, don’t be so rude,” Yaz said through a laugh, giving her a light punch on the arm.

“I’m not sure I’ve had a best friend before,” the Doctor continued, a smile tugging on her lips despite the deep emotions suddenly washing over her. “I think I like it. Yasmin Khan, I don’t understand how it could happen, but I’m very honoured to be your best friend.”

“Well, good. The only other competition for the role is Graham and Ryan.”

“Oh, I was a shoe in then. You might need more friends.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Yaz laughed, slowing to a stop at the end of the street. “I’m this way. I’ll see you around, alright Doctor?”

The Doctor smiled. “See you around.”

As Yaz walked up the street to the apartment where she and her family lived, the Doctor watched her for a moment. _Best friend_. It was a strange thought. She’d spent so long alone, to actually have someone think of _her_ as a friend, let alone the _best_ one, the Doctor felt a warmth deep in her chest that she couldn’t remember feeling for a very long time.

With a sigh, she continued on her way. The night was young, but there was little else to occupy her. She might do another sweep of the cemeteries later, but for now she’d pick up some blood from the hospital for her dinner and head home for a quiet night in.

Waiting outside the hospital for the blood delivery, she patiently watched as they unloaded from the truck. Once they turned their backs, she’d be able to rush in, snatch a box, and she’d be off. It was simple. The delivery drivers all but expected it now. In a Hellmouth like Sheffield, people adapted. They might not know vampires existed, but they worked around it, learned to look the other way when the darkness crept into their lives.

She noticed two other vampires, waiting on the other side of the building. Vampires usually didn’t make very good friends with each other, too much competition, but these two were chatting rather loudly and friendly with each other.

“Mate, this vampire’s the _real deal_ ,” one vampire said. “If you’re not with him, he’ll have you gone like _that_.”

“I’m bloody sick of these vampires that decide they’re the boss,” the other vampire said with a sigh. “ _The Master_. What a bastard.”

“Don’t let him hear you saying that,” the first vampire warned, giving an anxious look around. “Play your cards right and you’ll be fine. You don’t want to end up dust, do you?”

The Doctor felt a sickness rise within her, and she fell back against the brick wall of the building with wobbly legs. Her hand rose to her face, covering her eyes as she just breathed. The oxygen was useless, but it gave her something to do, something to focus on. By the time she finally had the strength to open her eyes again, the entire delivery truck had left and the two vampires were nowhere to be seen. With a groan, she punched the wall behind her, gasping at the pain. “Fuck!” she managed out, groaning through the pain.

She lazily rubbed her hand against her jacket, looking up into the night sky as she tried to settle her thoughts.

_(run.)_

The same little voice that had followed her all her life whispered in her ear.

_(run!)_

She was halfway home, already planning her destination, when she had to stop. At a full sprint by this point, she collapsed onto a bench outside one of the cemeteries, her head falling in her hands and her hair making a curtain around her face.

She couldn’t run.

Every inch of her skin begged to leave, to race away and never see those dark eyes again. She’d managed it for almost sixty long years, she could make it a few more. It was only the thought of Yaz that kept her resisting.

There could be no doubt why he was in Sheffield now. Three graves already stood tall because of that reason.

_Bill Potts._

_Clara Oswald._

_Rose Tyler._

Three women that had died because the Doctor was a coward.

She sighed, lifting herself from the bench and trudging her way home. A deep desperation sat in her still heart, but more than that was determination. Because Yasmin Khan was her _best friend_ , and she wouldn’t see another slayer dead to the monster she created.

-

It was two nights before she found the strength to see her friends, and even that was only because she began to hear rumours growing through the local demon population. Walking into Graham’s home, she could already hear them talking from a room away.

“The Master? That’s what he called himself? Bit egotistical, innit?” Graham said, thumbing through one of the books.

Yaz shrugged. “Ryan heard him too.” Ryan nodded.

“If I had a pound for every vampire that called himself ‘the Master’, I’d be a very rich man,” Graham continued. “I wonder though…”

“He’s the real deal,” she finally spoke.

“Bloody hell!” Ryan almost fell off his chair as he turned to see the Doctor in the doorway. “Can’t you knock?”

“I just heard,” the Doctor continued, ignoring the question. “Yaz, Ryan, are you alright?”

“Yeah, we’re fine. Who’s this Master guy?” Yaz asked, slipping off the arm of the couch to stand up.

“Bad news.” The Doctor looked from Yaz straight to Graham. “There are a lot of vampires that claim to be the Master, but this is **_the_ _Master_**.”

“I’ll have to do some more reading,” Graham said, looking away for a book. “Ryan, can you jump on the internet for me?”

“Sure, Gramps.”

“And Yaz, I don’t want you going out on your own for now. I know you’re good, but if the Doctor thinks this guy’s bad, I want you taking care of yourself. And Doc, can you tell us anything more about this vampire?” He turned back around, but she was already through the front door.

Yaz sighed, and the Doctor could hear the tail end of the conversation as she descended Graham’s front steps. “She has to teach me how to sneak around as well as her one day.”

-

The Doctor had expected confrontation, but she hadn’t thought she’d find Graham at her front door that very next morning. She hid behind the door from the morning sun’s rays, holding it open for Graham to enter quickly before she could close it behind him.

“Graham, how can I help you?” she asked, jovial as anything despite that deep pit in her stomach _knowing_ why he was there.

Graham cracked open the book in his hand, finding a passage quickly that he began to read snippets from. “The Master. First noted for killing in the late 1700s. Has a reputation for his particularly vicious torture and use of mind games when entrapping victims. Known for his relationship with his sire, the Oncoming Storm, also known as the Doctor, with whom they would torture together for over one hundred and fifty years before splitting in the early 1960s for unknown reasons.”

The Doctor said nothing, and simply stared at Graham.

He sighed. “The Watcher diaries that Grace left are _very_ clear. The Master is a greater threat than pretty much any other vampire, and what he learnt largely came from _you._ Which means you’re the foremost expert in this guy. You need to start being honest with us.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, not good enough. You know this bloke, you gave us a half-assed warning, and pissed off. That’s not the Doctor I know.”

“It’s personal. Sorry.”

“Not when it comes to Yaz, or Ryan or any of the other people in this town,” Graham said. “When I lost Grace, I promised her I’d watch over them. I know I’ve been a pretty poor excuse for Watcher to Yaz and grandparent to Ryan, but I will protect them. And if I need to keep hassling you until you-”

“I’ll tell you,” the Doctor interrupted. “Alright? I’m sorry. You know I wouldn’t put them, or you, in harm’s way if I could help it.”

Graham watched her for a moment, assessing her with piercing eyes that left her feeling guilty and nauseous. “Alright. I’ll leave you now, but can you come round tonight? We’ll have a meeting and you can actually help us prepare.”

“Of course,” the Doctor said softly, nodding.

**(1978)**

The Doctor woke up dizzily, and upon moving, could feel thick ropes encircling her arms and legs, holding her tightly to the chair she was seated on.

“What are you doing here?” A Scottish voice spoke, and she blinked blearily to see an old man sitting opposite and looking at her, a book open in his hand.

“Where am I?” she said through a mouth of cotton. Her head was _aching_ , and her memory felt so jumbled.

“That’s none of your business,” he replied, closing the book and settling it on a coffee table nearby. He stood up, towering over her as he looked her in the eyes. “Why are you following the slayer? Who sent you?”

Now, the Doctor began to remember things a bit clearer. Remembered trailing the slayer, preparing to explain why the slayer needed to be careful, and instead getting beat up and knocked out. Honestly, she was just surprised to be alive right now.

“No one sent me, I have a warning.”

“And what on Earth would a vampire be warning about?” he said through a thick sigh, disbelieving and tired of her.

“The Master. He’s after your slayer. I just wanted to warn her.”

“Who’s the Master?” The Doctor looked up to see Bill Potts, the current vampire slayer, stood at the doorway.

“Bad news,” the Doctor said.

“Very bad news,” the man said, a hand running through his grey hair. “Who are you then? Why would you warn us?”

“I’m trying to fix my mistake,” she said.

“Your mistake?” This was said with a laugh, before saying far more serious, “What’s your name?”

She hesitated. “The Doctor.”

“Oh bloody hell,” the man said, turning to look at Bill. “Alright, stake her now-”

“Wait! Please! I want to help!”

He scoffed. “Why do you want to help? What am I missing here? Vampires don’t help slayers, it’s kind of in the rule book.”

“I have a soul,” the Doctor admitted, desperation sneaking its way in. “I’m trying to fix my mistakes. I don’t kill, I don’t murder, I just want to help.”

The man stopped. “So the Doctor, _sire_ to the Master, wants to help because she has a _soul_. I had heard rumours, you know? Word travels fast in this neck of the woods.”

“Am I meant to know these names?” Bill interrupted. “What’s going on here?”

“It doesn’t matter!” the Doctor said. “It doesn’t matter right now what I used to be, just that the Master _is_ coming to Bristol right now to kill your slayer.”

The man and Bill looked at each other. They seemed to have a silent conversation, the man’s eyebrows working overtime to communicate. Finally, he sighed. “I have to call some people. Bill, you watch her please.”

“On it.” And Bill settled on the chair the man had vacated earlier while he left the room. Bill was considering her, and the Doctor just looked straight back.

**(three weeks later)**

The Doctor barely managed to duck out of the way of his attack. The Watcher was delirious with rage and grief, throwing punches left right and centre.

She might have fought back, but his red eyes left her with a sick gut, and she could barely resist letting him kill her on the spot.

“I’m sorry,” she managed out, voice thick with guilt.

“She’s _dead_. Bill’s _dead_ and it’s **your** fault.”

“Yes, I know,” she admitted, still dodging his attacks. “I’m sorry, I failed.”

“You said you’d save her, that you’d stop him!” The whisky was heavy on his breath, but the Doctor didn’t know what else she could do but to let him get this out of his system.

“I know.”

The man slumped to the floor at this, a hand running through his grey curls. The Doctor hesitated, watching him. Eventually he spoke. “Don’t ever let me see you again,” he muttered, accent thick, “Or I _will_ kill you.” 

With a silent nod in his direction, she slipped out the door and ran away.

**(2020)**

“I know this isn’t gonna be easy for you, but we need anything that can help,” Graham said in a low voice as he let the Doctor into the house. She nodded, walking through to the living room where Ryan and Yaz were waiting.

They both acknowledged her with a nod of the head, but neither looked particularly happy. Graham must have told them enough. She couldn’t blame them, she’d be pissed off in their position.

“Hi guys.”

Yaz stood up. “Tell us what you know.”


	2. in the stillness of remembering what you had (and what you lost)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Master's presence in town dredges up old memories for the Doctor, but even outside of her mind there is no escape from him anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from fleetwood mac's 'dreams'.

**(1796)**

The life of a vampire could become very monotonous very quickly. To have lifetime after lifetime, with endless opportunities to do whatever you liked certainly _sounded_ good, but in the end it wasn’t always a perfect life. For the Doctor, she hunted, she travelled, she read books, she did whatever her heart called for, but there was no spark or reason anymore. She was lonely. Centuries alone had a habit of creating that.

That’s why she decided to turn Harold Saxon.

She’d noticed his passion first before anything else. At a party when selecting her dinner (she was leaning towards the man she’d seen acting inappropriately with a terrified looking maid) she had found herself distracted watching him circulate the room. One carefully placed question to a young girl looking bored in the corner and she learned he was the third son of a Lord, a politician, and _very_ good at his job, despite his controversial ideas.

The very next day she found herself sneaking into parliament to watch him in action. She truly didn’t understand the critiques now, as watching him in person… it was _beautiful_. The way he argued his points, he was able to make the other party twist their own words round and round until there was no doubt who’d won.

It was for him that she’d chosen to attend another party, a week later. Stood in the corner, she took a chance to just watch him as he circulated the room. He seemed to have a remarkable memory. He’d approach men and their wives by name, with casual words and charming smiles, questions of their children, compliments for the lady. Then, with lowered defences, he’d subtly make his move. The casual and political dangled together, intertwined in his carefully curated points, and you’d watch as with another man beaten, he’d move on to the next victim in the room.

He was the one. She was sure of it. After the party finished, she waited outside. The Doctor had been following him for a few days now, so she knew he’d need to pass this particular building on his route home, and she stood behind the corner patiently.

Not long later, she watched him turn the corner. She called out, “Mr Saxon?”

He turned around, looking at her surprised. “Oh, hello. I’m sorry, you were at the party, weren’t you? I don’t believe I caught your name.”

“Call me Doctor,” she said, walking forward. On instinct, he began to step backwards, until finally, his back was against the wall.

It was funny how humans reacted to a force they didn’t understand. So few actually knew about vampires, but once you approached them, they almost always knew. You could see the hair rising on their arms, and hear the pounding of their heart. The prey recognised the predator, but was never quite able to articulate how they knew it. That missing piece of information would keep them on the spot, as unable to justify their fear, they waited until it was much too late. 

She smiled at him, still stepping closer. “It was Harold, wasn’t it? Or do you prefer Harry?”

Harry managed a smile of his own, anxious, weak, faltering. “Y-yes,” he managed out.

The Doctor was against him now, far closer than propriety would see an unmarried man and woman. He still didn’t run though, still couldn’t justify the pretty face of a feeble woman as a threat despite every inch of his body recognising it. She could hear his thrumming blood, just under the skin, and ran a finger down his neck.

“Ma’am-” he attempted.

“Shhhh,” she said gently, running her hand through his hair before suddenly gripping it, holding his head to the side. She was so close now, but she’d have to resist. She couldn’t lose herself to the feed. She pressed a few small kisses against the skin of his neck, and she heard, _felt_ him gasp beneath her.

She pulled back, desperate to see the horror, surprise, pleasure, that she knew she’d find on his face. She smiled, and felt her face transform, fangs growing. The horror only grew, and she could have laughed, but there were more important things. Her hand still in his hair, she held his head in place, teeth digging into flesh, while the rest of her held him up. His blood was sweet and perfect, but as she felt him weakening beneath her, his gasps and cries weakening, she had to pull back. It would do no good to ruin her plan now out of hunger. So she sliced into her own arm with a fang, and she forced the bleeding cut into his mouth. He drank, desperate and unknowing of the fate that would follow. When he finally collapsed, the blood loss too much, she stepped back, gently dropping him to the floor.

It would take some time to see the result of her work, but she could be patient. Walking away that night, there was a certain spring to her step.

**(two nights later)**

The family had worked quickly. Harry had been buried in the local cemetery with little hesitation or fuss. That had surprised her, to an extent. Even the funeral, which the Doctor had watched from afar, had been a formal affair. Few tears, few kind words. In the end, that only justified her decision more. Together, they would be happy. She was sure of it.

She could hear scratches, cracking wood and falling dirt. She was sure it was happening, that her new vampire had awakened. She could hardly stand the wait, but she did. It was in the early hours of the morning when finally she caught a glimpse of him. A trembling, dirty hand poked from the soil, grasping and clawing its way to the surface.

Soon another emerged behind it, and his head followed, coughing out soil and gasping for unneeded breaths. She smiled to herself, reaching forward to grab his hand. He clasped back tightly, and she helped him make that final stretch upwards.

When he finally lay coughing beside his grave, she knelt beside him, pushing his sweaty and dirty hair off his face. “You’ve done so well,” she said.

“Please!” he begged. She knew what he begged for. She remembered it so well herself.

She held her arm out, the same one that had given him life, and he bit into her. She gasped, but didn’t pull away, just whispering to him, “Drink. You’ll be alright.”

-

He was a fast learner, but she knew he would be. Once the disorientation had passed, she began to teach him everything she knew.

For his first victim, she held his hand. The trembling human beneath them barely had a moment’s attention, as she used them like a teaching aide to point out the various arteries and veins to avoid or select, based on one’s need. Harry nodded along, tracing along every new bit of information before finally releasing himself and putting his newfound knowledge to use.

She’d laughed at him later that evening. He’d gotten confused. That _was_ to be expected. He had nicked a major artery, and the two had become drenched in blood. Once the human was dead, she’d assured him that he’d do better next time, but he was upset with himself. It hadn’t taken long to distract him though. Human blood tasted almost as good from each other’s skin as it did from the source. They would try again the next night.

**(2020)**

The Doctor walked away from Graham’s home that night feeling heavier than before she’d arrived. They were all still upset with her, but to varying extents. Graham seemed to understand her better than the others. He’d first met her when Grace had brought her in to help Yaz, so he’d seen her in much worse shape. Yaz meanwhile looked like she was _trying_ to understand. She had asked so many questions, and looked like she had a mental list of a million more. The Doctor’s vampiric state was the one natural divide between them, and understanding it was something that Yaz had always struggled with. It was just more difficult now to ignore those differences. Ryan meanwhile spoke so little, it was almost strange. He sat in his armchair watching quietly, listening to everything.

She wished she had some way of fixing it, but she wasn’t sure it was even _possible_ to fix it. Her lack of communication seemed to be the least of their problems with her, and they all instead seemed more bothered with what her past actually featured. There wasn’t a cure for that, except maybe a time machine.

The Doctor paused in her steps suddenly, as something hovered in her gut, pulling her towards something.

**(1797)**

“How do you always find me?” he whispered, his head resting on her stomach.

Her right hand was intertwined with his, their fingers dancing together. Her other hand brushed through his hair, enjoying the softness as she explained, “I’m your sire. You have me in you. I can always find you.”

Harry turned over to his front at that, eyes meeting her own. There was so much confusion on his face, but he still moved closer, placing kisses up her bare skin. “Explain, please.”

“The blood I gave you to make a vampire left a part of me inside you,” she said, brushing the hair from his eyes. “I can sense that connection, can sense _you_.”

“But I can’t-”

“It’s a one-way connection. But don’t worry about that right now. I’m feeling peckish, do you want to go grab a bite?”

**(2020)**

He was nearby. She could feel it, like a beacon drawing her home. Except that wasn’t home anymore, and hadn’t been for a long, long time. The Doctor immediately turned around, desperate to get further away from him, to broaden that distance that kept them all safe. It meant taking the long route home, but that was fine. She liked the walk.

The longer she walked though, the stronger that sense grew. Even taking the long route home, and then the next longest route, and another again, it was like she couldn’t get closer to her apartment without sensing him. Maybe he’d already done his research and found her. Normally this was the time she’d run for hell, to leave town and put as much distance between him and her as possible. Only she promised the others, and herself, that she wouldn’t. So instead she turned around once more and headed back to Graham’s.

The light was still on in the front window, which spurred her forward. Knocking on the door, when it opened she stared wide-eyed up at Graham.

He must have been about to go to bed, because he was in pyjamas, glasses on his face. She smiled awkwardly. “Hi, Graham.”

“What’s wrong?” he said through a yawn, although held the door open to let her in. She entered, walking into the living room.

“I’m sorry to be a bother, but I can’t go home,” she explained. “ _He’s_ there, I think, and I need to hide somewhere. I’m sorry, I can go, I just-”

“No, you take the couch, Doc,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I know what Grace promised you, and I agreed then and I agree now. You always have a home here.”

She knew what Grace had said too, and it _was_ why she’d come here, but it didn’t stop the warmth floating through her stomach at the surprise of complete acceptance from Graham. 

Smiling, genuinely, she said, “Thanks, Graham. You won’t notice me, I promise. It’s just ’til he leaves and I can grab my stuff. I’ll find a different apartment.”

He put his hand up to stop her. “It’s alright, Doctor. Promise. Time like this, maybe it’s best you stay here. As long as you don’t leave bloody mugs on my coffee table.”

“Oh, I promise! Thank you so much, Graham.”

**(2017)**

“Are you the Doctor?”

She lifted her head tiredly, blinking until finally the person came clear in her vision. It was a woman, human. The Doctor sighed, standing up and turning away. “No.”

“Sure about that?”

“Yep.”

“Look, I know exactly who and what you are. My name is Grace, and I need to speak with you.”

The Doctor just kept walking down the street, ignoring the woman who trailed behind her.

“I can get you blood, money, even a proper home.”

The Doctor did pause at this, the thought of an actual _house_ to sleep in of a daytime sounding extremely good. As it was, she moved around a lot. She had spent sixty long years migrating from place to place. It had been the easiest way to make her quick escapes when _he_ came to town, especially considering how expensive rent could be. Currently she was sleeping in the back room of a demon pub, and the owner, a human, kept making _comments_ at her. She only stayed because he let her have free blood, and that could get very pricey alongside rent if she left. But a _proper home_ , that would be… nice. No other word for it.

She shook her head, clearing away those thoughts. She couldn’t trust this woman. “What do you want in return?”

“Help.”

She snorted. “Help?”

“You have quite the reputation with my people.”

Finally the Doctor stopped, turning around to face Grace. “And who might that be?”

“The Watcher’s Council.”

 _This_ really caught her attention, and she started laughing. “You are _very_ lost or _very_ stupid.”

“I don’t think so.” Grace’s head tilted as she considered her, and she tilted her head back in curiosity.

“Why are you here then?”

“I assume you know what my job might be.”

“Ridding the world of monsters like me.”

“And protecting the slayer.”

“Yes, the one girl who is specifically _chosen_ for killing me. Excellent. Definitely see your point now.”

Grace raised an eyebrow at the sarcasm, and the Doctor rolled her eyes. Grace finally continued. “I’m in charge of a young girl, Yasmin Khan. Now Yaz is only seventeen years old, just been called, and I know exactly who is going to come after her. You do too.”

“And?”

“I want your help.”

The Doctor laughed again.

“I’m serious.”

“Yes, I think you are. I don’t understand _why_ though. How the hell could I help a slayer?”

“Because I’ve read the Watcher diaries. All of them. Studied them in fact, and I know what you’re capable of, for better or worse. And I know that when it comes to your ex, you’ve been doing a solid job cleaning up after him.”

This gave the Doctor pause, and she almost, _almost_ , pushed the woman against the wall and choked the life out of her.

“I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I think you’re so guilty, you’ve been doing everything you can to make up for those murders. It’s a valiant effort, though I think you can do more.”

“What do you think I can even do? I’ve never saved a slayer. Bill Potts, Clara Oswald, Rose Tyler. I tried to help all three of them and failed.”

“I know. That was one thing the Watcher diaries were _very_ clear on. That you did try.” Grace’s lips quirked in a half-smile. “You’re a controversial figure with the council.”

The Doctor sighed. “So you trust me, a vampire, to protect your baby slayer before he can kill her too?”

“Yes,” Grace said simply. “Yes, I do.”

**(2020)**

When she awoke the next morning from a fitful night’s sleep (her body was ready to _run_ , adrenaline still pumping through her), it was to hear Graham and Ryan talking in low voices in the next room.

“Son, I know things are a bit…” Graham was saying.

“Insane.”

“ _Weird_ at the moment, but she needs our help. Family, remember?”

“I know,” Ryan said, in a whisper. “Look Gramps, I _know_ she’s family now. But she lied, and then all that stuff she was saying about _him_ , it’s like…”

“Like she’s maybe a different woman than the one we knew before? I understand, I’m in the same boat Ryan, but I know what your nan would have wanted, and it would be to help the woman who’s helped us and saved our lives all this time.”

There was a low sigh, before finally Ryan spoke. “Yeah, I know.”

The Doctor heard footsteps leaving the kitchen to come into the room, and she lifted her head to see Ryan staring at her.

“Morning, Doctor,” he said.

“Hi, Ryan,” she said with a small, weak smile.

She was glad to hear that he wasn’t _truly_ mad at her. Small mercies, really. There was enough guilt inside her without adding to it. Maybe she hadn’t lost the three people most important to her, not yet anyway.

“I’m making eggs, if you lot want any,” Graham called out from the kitchen.

“Yeah thanks, Gramps,” Ryan said, sitting on a chair and flicking on the television.

The Doctor sat up properly. “Yes, please.”

Graham poked his head in the doorway. “Oh, and Doctor, I spoke to Yaz this morning. She’s going to check out your place, make sure everything’s alright. She’ll be by soon to update us.”

“What? Graham, that was very dangerous.”

He smiled, “It’s daytime, she’s loaded up with weapons, and prepared for a fight. She’ll be alright.”

Graham was right. Not long after finishing their eggs, while all three sat in the living room watching some old film that was on the telly, the doorbell rang and soon Ryan was leading Yaz back into the living room.

“How’d you go, Yaz?” Graham asked.

“No problems at all. Doctor, your place was fine. Nothing broken or taken by the looks of things.”

“Well, that’s something, I suppose,” she said.

“There was one thing though. They left a note.”

The Doctor hesitated, “A note?”

Yaz nodded, pulling out a piece of paper from her pocket. “Here.”

_Honey, I’m home._

The Doctor swallowed a thick lump that was forming in her throat, sighing as she leant forward to rest her elbows on her knees, a hand running through her hair.

“Are you alright?” Yaz asked.

“Yeah, fine. I have to go,” she said, standing up from the couch and picking up her jacket.

“It’s the middle of the day, _where_ are you going? You’re safe here. No one’s inviting any strange vampires in, apart from yourself of course.”

“Oh thanks,” the Doctor said, voice lightening despite the storm growing inside her.

“Good, so it’s sorted. You stay here, I track him down-” Yaz started.

“No! Yaz, _no_. You’re not doing that.”

“What do you think we should do then? Because you certainly aren’t going to…” Yaz trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

“Aren’t going to _what_?” Her voice was low now, but she felt like she already knew what the end of the sentence might be.

“Kill him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think the flashback bits have been my favourite parts to write for this fic, including those i've written for future chapters. i think the next chapter we'll see the master. maybe. kudos/comments very appreciated!


	3. break the silence (damn the dark, damn the light)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Doctor.” His voice was deep and gruff, spoken through gritted teeth. Although she knew it wouldn’t, time had done nothing to the Master’s face, his intense dark eyes still looking at her the same way they always had. She felt like if she still had a functioning heart, it might just be pounding now, because the rest of her felt so alive seeing him in the flesh again. 
> 
> “Harry,” she managed out. The name slipped out easier than she thought it would, and it was perhaps a power move to use that name instead of his chosen title. A reminder that this was the person she had murdered some two hundred years ago, and what remained was a monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from fleetwood mac's 'the chain'

**(1798)**

Falling in love with the Doctor had been as easy as blinking.

In a world of propriety and rules, she stood out. She never wore dresses, or did makeup, or extravagant things with her hair. It was only when she felt the need to avoid attention and disguise herself that any of that would come out. He always preferred her in her natural state, dark hair left loose and allowed to wave and curl as it pleased. Her outfit, typically trousers, shirt and waistcoat under a coat, were very against the fashion for women but she never minded that. Instead she was at her most comfortable, most free, with her posture always more confident and bold, and always ready to run to whatever caught her eye.

But it was more than that. Or perhaps, what he loved about the rest of her really meant the same things. Her presence. Her confidence. While he knew several languages from his upbringing, it compared little to the carefree way she’d rattle off in a foreign language he’d never even heard of before they’d arrived in a new country on their worldly travels. And then there was all the information she was able to share at the drop of a hat. When she wasn’t hunting or with him, she was reading, exploring, learning.

He’d spent his humanity believing that to succeed you needed to master all the rules, and so he had played by every single one of them. He’d always dressed right, spoke right, memorised etiquette, practiced that dance for the next ball, charmed the people at the party that he needed to charm. Then there was the Doctor, at her most basic a Yorkshire girl who hated anything that held her down, whether it was as simple as her clothes, or the much more damning expectations of society. Because of her, his transition into being a vampire had gone far beyond immortal life and feasting on the blood of humans.

Yet, despite everything, the Doctor still remained mystery incarnate. She was never open about anything more personal than the time she met William Shakespeare. It took two years from first meeting her for her to finally tell him her name, her real name. He’d joked that ‘the Doctor’ wasn’t a real name, but she’d rolled her eyes, and then, just a few minutes later, still wrapped up in his arms, her fingers slow dancing across the skin of his arm, under the moonlight and bright stars in the sky, she told him.

_ Joan. _

He asked her, “Why ‘the Doctor’ then?”

She laughed, shrugging. “Better than Joan.”

He had a different theory, supposing that she chose the name as a woman of science and medicine. After all, she was constantly studying and learning, she knew just about everything that one _could_ know about the body and the world. She snorted, explaining that she hadn’t always been this way. But one of the benefits of a long, immortal life was quite simply the time to do what you want to do. And, of course, the ability to murder anyone who tried to stand in your way.

The Doctor’s expertise went well beyond just the medical and scientific world. She walked him through defence and attack manoeuvres, and they would fight, practicing techniques, helping him hone his ability. It had the added ability of often putting one of them on their back, which made their additional interests much easier.

One thing she’d not needed to show him though was the art of the kill. That had come so easily to him, he hadn’t needed her approval to know he had done right.

It was one night, hidden away in the crypt they had claimed for their stay in the small village, that she’d revealed yet another secret of her. She admitted her age to him.

Of course he had suspicions. She knew so much about _everything_ , and the reputation that trailed behind her was so deep and strong. She might go by the Doctor now, but it was certainly not the first, or last, name that she’d be known by. Vampires would flock to her feet, listen to her orders, and the humans meanwhile would retreat. One whisper of _the Oncoming Storm_ , and it would become a ghost town.

Within that crypt, she admitted that, “I’m over 850 years old, you know?” She almost sounded amused by her comment. Like she couldn’t believe it herself.

Harry laughed in turn, kissing her far gentler than he usually did. “No one could accuse you of looking the fact, though, love,” he replied.

The Doctor’s reputation was just one reason for his change of identity. A year into his afterlife and it began to clock on just how little _flair_ and _power_ there was to the simple name. No one would hide away in their homes upon nightfall from _Harry_ the vampire.

He planned and thought for a long while before he ever admitted it to the Doctor. It was only on one night, holding her close, acting braver than he was feeling, that he spoke of it.

As his lips worked their way from hers, to her cheek, down her jaw, finally reaching her neck where he was so soft and gentle he could feel her growing impatient beneath him, her hands rough on his back, pulling him closer to her. Then, like itching a scratch, he transformed, fangs growing and just as soon biting into her. Vampire blood offered little nutritional value for each other, but it was like wine at the table, or the dessert that followed dinner. It was a _treat_ , an expression of love and lust.

The Doctor gasped, moaning into his ear as she held him in place. It was also very good for promoting the release of certain pleasure-inducing chemicals in the brain, which was another thing she’d taught him. “Oh, Harry.”

That was the moment where he realised, truly, that he wanted to change his name. Needed to change his name. And he spoke.

“Master, call me Master,” he managed out, looking into her eyes, blood dripping from his mouth, though he licked at his lips.

She pushed against him, forcing them to roll over into the reverse position. She straddled his waist, legs tight against him, and he looked up to see her grinning, that sweet, red force of life still trailing down her neck. “Alright, Master,” she said, leaning down to return the favour.

From her lips, that name was _everything_ to him.

**(2020, the previous night)**

“This is horrific,” the Master said, frowning at the room. “You _live_ like this, Doctor?”

Of course no one answered. She wasn’t home and he’d come here on his own. By now she would have heard he was in town, but it didn’t look like she’d run. All her things were still spread out across the room like she’d stood up and walked out only moments prior. Several drained mugs that must have once held blood sat on a coffee table, a bookcase, and the floor. Multiple books were left open, many being held up with whatever she must have found beside her in the moment, including in one case, another empty, bloody mug.

There were several wires and broken electrical items including a microwave, two toasters and a small engine of some kind laid out across the floor of the living room too. She’d always enjoyed science, dragging him around to exhibits and demonstrations of the newest technologies and discoveries. Apparently in the last sixty years she had branched out to experimenting with it herself.

Stepping over the electrical equipment, the Master pushed open a door which seemed to lead to her bedroom, judging by the unmade bed in the corner. There was nothing of particular interest calling to him in there, even as he explored, peering through random papers she’d left on the bedside table and pulling open drawers.

Walking back into the main area of the home, he paused a moment. The place _breathed_ of her. Her scent, her presence, her ghost. It was intoxicating.

It had been a long sixty years without her. One day they were ruling the world, with humans running at the sound of their names, and the next day she was gone without an explanation. He’d been rather hurt at first, assuming she’d abandoned him purposefully, but then the rumours started flying, of witches and souls, and then he realised she was taken from him.

All attempts to find her, to seek the truth from her lips themselves, were prevented by her continued running and hiding. She never stopped in one place for very long, and the moment he’d arrive she’d be gone again. It was infuriating and agonising. So he continued to search, hoping that one day he might understand what had occurred that night in 1963.

Before he left he picked up a book, snorted at the title and ripped a page from it, scribbling on the top:

_ Honey, I’m home. _

Slamming shut the front door behind him, the Master marched into the night. He was so close to achieving what he wanted now, he just needed to be patient for a little while longer.

**(2020, the next day)**

Turning the piece of paper over in her hands, she ran a finger along the familiar print. They were all seated in Graham’s living room for another meeting to plan their next move, and Yaz was explaining her last night’s patrol. She meanwhile read along the page he’d written on, the typed words having been ripped out of one of her books. _Frankenstein_. A scientist with vaulting ambitions creates new life, only to abandon it afterwards. The Master apparently thought he was hilarious.

“So what are we going to do?” Ryan asked, drawing her attention back to the conversation at hand. The Doctor looked up, pushing the page into the pocket of her coat.

“You know him best, Doc,” Graham said, gesturing to her. “What should we be doing first?”

“I don’t know,” she said in a low voice, mouth scrunching up a bit. “We need to find out where he’s living for a start, and to figure out what he has at his disposal.”

“What about all the newbie vampires?” Ryan asked.

“What do you mean?” Yaz asked, brow furrowing in surprise.

“I just meant, is he making all the new vampires you were talking about the other night?”

The three others paused for a moment, before Graham said, “Huh.”

“Make an army of vampires and you have a solid distraction that keeps us away and leaves Yaz weak and alone so he can take her out,” Ryan continued, eyes glancing over the three of them. “Just what I was thinking, anyway.”

“You might be onto something,” the Doctor said, still watching him as she considered his words. “I can’t say he ever spoke of wanting to make an army of vampires before, but you’re right. All those vampires would really slow us down.”

“I’ll never be able to take on a whole army at once,” Yaz admitted. “We need to take care of them first then.”

“Agreed,” the Doctor said.

“If we get them all in the one place, we can set a fire or something,” Ryan offered. “Is that possible?”

“Ryan coming through with the excellent ideas,” the Doctor said, pulling confidence and pride into her voice. “I’m not sure _how_ we’ll do that yet, but…”

“But it’s a start, good job Ryan,” Graham said. “Now for his most obvious goal…”

“Yaz.”

“The Doctor.”

The two looked at each other. “He’s killed three other slayers, he’s here for _you_ ,” the Doctor said.

“He left you a message saying _‘Honey, I’m home’._ He’s here for _you_ ,” Yaz replied.

Ryan snorted, and Graham quickly interrupted, “Hang on, hang on, you two. He’s probably here for both of you. I’ve been reading the Watcher diaries, and yes, he’s killed three other slayers, but… Well, I didn’t much like to mention it…”

“What?” the Doctor said.

“There was some talk from Rose Tyler’s watcher, that the Master was _actually_ …”

“Actually what?”

“Trying to get _your_ attention.”

The Doctor slumped back on the couch, mouth agape a little. “What?”

“He seems to think that by murdering slayers, you might be… impressed.”

“What? He’s… insane! Me, impressed by murder? I mean, _maybe_ once, when I had no soul, but that’s the _point_ of a soul, isn’t it?”

“Oi, I’m not the bloke, am I? I have no idea what’s going on in his brain, so aim your anger at the right person, thank you very much,” Graham responded disgruntled.

The Doctor’s eyes lowered, the fury dropping away to be replaced with guilt. “I’m sorry, Graham. That wasn’t fair of me.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he said. “I understand that you’re feeling a bit… upset at the moment. But we’ll get him this time, I promise. No one here wants to see Yaz dead.”

“Yeah, I’d love to stay not dead,” Yaz said, raising a hand. “So, do we start looking for him now then?”

The Doctor stood up. “Yeah, let’s go. Graham, don’t give me that look. Me and Yaz can look after each other.”

“Promise,” Yaz said, smiling at them.

“I’ll come too,” Ryan said. At the Doctor and Yaz’s looks, he rolled his eyes. “Me and gramps have been working on my self-defence. I know I can’t keep up with you two, but I can help.”

“And I s’pose I better come along too,” Graham said. “Me and Ryan will help search and will stay out of the way of any fights. Right, Ryan?”

Ryan sighed, but nodded. “Yeah, alright.”

-

The Doctor led the way on their search. She had briefly explained their link, and indicated that she would be able to narrow down the potential locations. So they wandered the streets of Sheffield, the Doctor at the front following that tugging in her gut.

She wasn’t surprised when they eventually reached a large home, reminiscent of a castle, that stood on the edge of the town.

“Blimey, the bloke doesn’t half go for the aesthetic,” Graham said, looking up.

The Doctor nodded, still staring up at the building. “He always did love looking the part of a vampire.”

One more moment passed and then she convinced herself to move.

They were quiet when walking up to the building, diverging from the path and instead navigating to the side of the building. The Doctor peered through windows, letting her instinct guide her. She soon found a side door and with only a small show of force, unlocked and opened it. Inside there was just a long corridor leading to several doorways and a staircase upstairs.

“Let’s split up,” she whispered. “Graham and Ryan, stick together and go that way, Yaz, you go that way, and I’ll go upstairs.”

All in agreement, they split. She had her motivations for choosing the upstairs, as she was sure that he was up there. If the others watched the bottom floor and dealt with any vampires there, that left her to take the Master on her own.

At the top of the stairs the Doctor reached another corridor. Through the first door, she only found an empty storage room. The second and third rooms went similarly unproductive. Behind the fourth door she saw a bedroom, and paused. It was his. She was sure of it. She could smell him for starters, but it went beyond that. The bed stood in the middle, blankets pulled neatly to the top. There was a bookcase on one wall, carefully organised. In one drawer she pulled open, there was a small arrangement of knick knacks and mementos. One stopped her short. It was a small pendant, given to her by her mother when she’d still been alive. She’d had to abandon it when she’d gained her soul and ran away, but now looking at it with fresh, souled eyes… She picked it up, grasping the cold metal tight in her hands. She was taking it back.

Closing the drawer, she continued to look for a moment longer, but there was nothing else of interest. Carefully stepping out of the room, the Doctor shut the door quietly behind her. She was just about to step into the next room when a hand wrapped itself around her throat, pulling her backwards and against the wall.

It was him. Of course it was him. Held by her throat against the wall, she stretched her head back, trying to ease the pressure on her throat, but he didn’t relent. That was fine. She didn’t need to breathe. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to talk, but she didn’t know what she’d say anyway.

“Doctor.” His voice was deep and gruff, spoken through gritted teeth. Although she knew it wouldn’t, time had done nothing to the Master’s face, his intense dark eyes still looking at her the same way they always had. She felt like if she still had a functioning heart, it might just be pounding now, because the rest of her felt so alive seeing him in the flesh again.

“Harry,” she managed out. The name slipped out easier than she thought it would, and it was perhaps a power move to use that name instead of his chosen title. A reminder that this was the person she had murdered some two hundred years ago, and what remained was a monster.

He snorted at the name, easing the hand on her throat and pulling back. He was like a caged animal, pacing in front of her now. “What the _hell_ happened to you? You were my sire, Doctor, my inspiration, my **everything** , and now-”

“Now,” she interrupted, eyes glancing to the stairway, “Now, I’m doing the right thing.”

The Master grinned, a harsh laugh escaping his lips, and he looked upwards to an imaginary audience for advice, arms in the air like _what can you do?_

With his hand off her throat and eyes distracted, she took her chance. She made it three steps towards the stairs when he caught her arm, pulling her back against the wall. He was so close to her now, and this time his fingers held her tightly, almost painfully by the wrist, with his other hand gripping her face.

“No! No, you aren’t going anywhere so quickly. _Not_ when I’ve just got you back,” he said harshly, and she glared at him.

The Master sighed. “Those witches sure did a number on you,” he continued, voice so slow and soft now it was almost a whisper, his breath so warm against her neck. “It took me a long, long time to find out what happened to you. I was almost hurt, until I learned. A **soul**. How disgusting. I can _smell_ it on you.” The Doctor could hear footsteps coming from downstairs and something frantic rose within her. “But, Doctor...” This was punctuated with his tongue sliding up the skin of her neck, and she gasped despite herself. “I _will_ fix you. Or destroy you, if it’s the last thing I do.”

The Doctor didn’t say anything. She didn’t know what to say. Instead, courage rising, she swung her foot out, kicking his legs out from under him. Although she stumbled, and he adapted quickly, rolling and jumping back to his feet, there was distance between them now. Nice, safe distance. The scales were rebalanced. They danced around each other for a moment, both watching each other, waiting for the other to make the first move.

The Master apparently lost patience first, and swung at her, but she dodged the attack, managing to hit him in the stomach. He reverberated backwards from the hit, but he didn’t pause for long, already flying forwards again.

As the two dodged and swung, it was becoming increasingly clear that it wasn’t going to be a simple battle for either. The Doctor moved to punch him, and the Master predicted her attack. The Master tried to grab at her, and she was already moving out of the way. It was push and pull. No one could be said to be winning.

“Doctor!”

Yaz had ran up the stairs and didn’t hesitate before walloping the Master over the head. He recoiled, stumbling backwards until he was leaning against the wall, pulling himself back up onto his feet.

“You brought a _slayer_ to my home? What did I ever do to you, Doctor?” he asked, dodging another hit from Yaz.

“Do you really need me to answer that?” she asked.

“Yes, I rather think so,” the Master said through a groan as Yaz landed a particularly hard hit to his nose. He managed to kick Yaz away this time though, pulling a wooden stake from her hand, and she fell backwards. The Doctor jumped back in, stepping in front of Yaz and swinging at the Master’s face.

Except she misjudged the distance, and with a growl, the Master sidestepped the attack and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her against him and into a headlock. He held her tightly against him, the sharp wood of Yaz’s stake pressing against her chest. The Master’s hand was trembling, with anger, fear, desperation, she wasn’t sure. But she didn’t move.

Yaz, just getting to her feet, stopped instantly, her hands flying up in surrender.

“Okay, okay, let’s all calm down here,” he said through gritted teeth, arm tightening around the Doctor’s neck. “You two are both going to go down those stairs, leave this house, and never return. Yes?”

Yaz looked at the stake angled at the Doctor’s heart. “You wouldn’t stake her,” Yaz said, voice far more bold than the Doctor could agree with. “So tell me why I shouldn’t kill you now?”

The Master laughed, head leaning against the Doctor’s. “Maybe you’re right. But I don’t think either of us is prepared for this fight. Leave, and I’ll give you a day’s rest. Then tomorrow night the fight is back on.”

The Doctor could already see Yaz considering it, her eyes drifting towards the Doctor’s own, before returning to the Master. Her chin lifted a little, defiant as she stared at him. “Alright, you’ll release the Doctor and we’ll both leave. But this isn’t over.”

“Of course it isn’t,” the Master said, using his head to gesture Yaz towards the stairway. “You first.”

Yaz carefully backed away, and once she was halfway down the stairs, the Doctor came hurtling behind her. She heard the clatter of a stake behind them, but they were both still running.

Downstairs, Graham and Ryan were waiting at the bottom, and Yaz managed to push them ahead of her, straight out the door and into the garden while shouting, “Go!” As the Doctor threw the door closed behind them, she thought she heard a loud banging noise and the Master swearing.

They continued to run down the path and into the street, and it was another two minutes before Graham finally raised a hand to make them stop, leaning his hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

Ryan, similarly out of breath, asked, “What the hell happened? Are you guys alright?”

The Doctor ran a hand through her hair, turning to watch behind them. She could see Yaz also watching their surroundings. They might have agreed to a night’s amnesty, but the Master wasn’t exactly a trustworthy person.

“I’m fine, but there was a fight,” Yaz explained. “He said we have a truce until tomorrow night.”

“I wouldn’t trust that bloke as far as I could throw him,” Graham said, shaking his head.

“I know, that’s why we have to go _now_ ,” the Doctor interrupted. “We’re not safe on the streets.”

“But you are alright, yeah, Doc?” Graham said, starting to move.

“Yeah, fine,” she lied.

Her throat was definitely bruised from when he’d choked her, but that would heal in little time at all. There would be more parts of her aching by morning, but that wasn’t the concern either. Her skin was thrumming with energy that had no outlet, and there were emotions welling deep inside her which scared her most of all, leaving her sick to her stomach and with a deep weight on her chest.

“Let’s get back to the house,” Graham said, but the Doctor shook her head. When they all looked at her, she managed a smile.

“I’ll be fine, you guys go on.”

Yaz tried to come closer, but the Doctor took another step back, still smiling shiny. “Promise. I’ll be by tomorrow.”

“It’s not safe!” Ryan tried to argue, but the Doctor simply raised a hand in goodbye, finally turning around and taking the long walk home.

**Author's Note:**

> if you've got this far, thank you for reading! i have more already written, including stuff that actually includes the master, but it's all a work in progress sorting it, and writing something with a proper plot and sequencing is very new to me. any comments and kudos are very appreciated! as i said, a real work in progress, so knowing what works and doesn't work helps heaps! also, you can find me on tumblr at 'cordeychase'.


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